


Trappy Valentine's Day

by ShockMeDoc



Series: The Trapper and The Runner [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShockMeDoc/pseuds/ShockMeDoc
Summary: It's Valentine's Day in the fog, and Evan is determined to do something special for his girlfriend Meg.
Relationships: Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Meg Thomas, Philip Ojomo | The Wraith/Sally Smithson | The Nurse
Series: The Trapper and The Runner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130693
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Trappy Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to have this done by Valentine's Day, but school got in the way. Hopefully anyone who decides to give this a try will still enjoy it. :) Now that this little one-shot is done, I'm going to get back to editing and posting the rest of The Trapper and the Runner, as well as a sequel I'm working on. 
> 
> After that's all finished, I'm definitely going to do more one-shots for Meg and Evan eventually because they're my favorite couple to write about. I'm also thinking of doing a story on the very beginnings of DBD, when it was only the original 4 survivors and 3 killers, a prequel of Spirit and her mystery survivor before they were taken by the Entity, and possibly a Nea/Yui or a Laurie/Quentin story. Any preferences as to which one I work on first? Or is there something totally different you'd like to see? Feel free to let me know, I'm always open for suggestions, criticism, compliments, and insults. :)

Evan was sitting by the fire, fiddling with a trap. He had already completed his Trial for the night, but decided to remain at the fire until all the Trials were over. Meg definitely wouldn’t be over to visit until after they were done, and he didn’t want to sit at the estate by himself.

Now that he knew what it was like to _not_ be lonely—he had a harder time with the solitude.

The only other killer at the fire currently was Michael Myers, cleaning his knife and getting ready for his upcoming Trial, but the fact that he didn’t talk made it hard for Evan to connect with him, and, besides—he wasn’t really interested in befriending a killer who took as much pleasure in his kills as Michael did.

He knew Rin and Anna had Trials later on in the night, so he expected they would show up soon. For now, he was content to sit in silence, testing his trap out over and over by sticking his own foot into it. The brutal strength and thick skin the Entity had granted him made it so that stepping in his own traps, which had torn skin and broken ankles of so many survivors-- was nothing more than an annoyance to him.

After a few minutes, that familiar thick cloud of fog began to gather, and then Frank was collapsed next to the fire, gasping for air.

“Are you alright?” Evan asked, glancing up at the teenaged killer.

“I went against your girlfriend,” he announced, struggling to his feet. “Almost had the little bitch, too, but she outran me. Again.”

“Don’t call her…that,” Evan scolded.

“Yeah, yeah.” Evan couldn’t see Frank’s face under the mask, but he was almost positive he was rolling his eyes. “So, are you getting laid tomorrow?”

“Laid? What?”

“You know. Fucked. Real good.”

Evan blushed, embarrassed by both Frank’s language and insinuations. “It’s not any of your business when Meg and I are... _intimate._ And what’s so special about tomorrow?”

Frank burst into laughter. “Wow! Have you forgotten that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day? Poor Meg!” He stopped to catch his breath for a minute before continuing. “Actually, maybe she’s lucky. She won’t have to worry about sucking your—”

“Okay, okay.” Evan cut him off. “I don’t keep track of the days, so I didn’t realize.”

“Man, sometimes I wonder how you were able to even get yourself a girlfriend—a smoking hot _survivor,_ too.”

“Don’t talk that way about Meg!” Evan growled, irritated.

“I’m just messing with you, bro,” Frank said, plopping down on the log and giving Evan a light punch to the shoulder—or, at least, it _felt_ light to Evan. “I’ve never celebrated it before either. Stupid consumerist materialistic bullshit holiday.”

“So, you won’t be doing anything either then?”

“Nah, I will. Julie wants to celebrate. And if it makes her happy, it makes me happy too.” He paused for a second, as if embarrassed to admit that he cared about someone so much. “Women, am I right?” he added quickly. And with that, he jumped up and sprinted away.

Evan watched him go. He was fast— _almost_ as fast as his Meg. He then considered Frank’s words. He had never done anything for Valentine’s Day before—not when he was mortal, and certainly not after, either.

He vaguely remembered seeing advertisements in the newspapers back at home for elaborately decorated valentines, but he’d always thought it was a waste of money. Not that he’d had anyone to buy one for anyway.

He knew Meg didn’t keep track of the days either—she didn’t see the point—so if he didn’t want to do anything, he could let the day pass by without even an acknowledgement.

But… he found himself _wanting_ to do something for her. He wanted to surprise her, show her how much he cared, make her smile.

And it would be their first Valentine’s Day together.

Well, at least the first one where, if he was trying to chase her down and impale her on a meat hook, she’d know he felt bad about it.

_If I had money now, I’d get Meg the biggest, fanciest Valentine I could afford,_ he thought to himself.

But, of course, he didn’t have money, it didn’t exist here in this realm. If one killer had something another killer wanted, they could either barter or fight for it. He remembered a particularly amusing incident where Anna and Sally battled it out for a rotten oak branch they’d apparently both found at the same time in the forest. In the end, Anna had won with a strategic hatchet to Sally’s shoulder.

_Meg probably wouldn’t be interested in a rotten branch, though,_ he thought.

He mulled other ideas over in his head. He could sketch her something—he knew Meg loved his art—but all he had was charcoal from the bonfire and pieces of bark. He definitely wouldn’t be able to make something worthy enough.

_Maybe a trap?_ He considered the idea of using scrap metal to make a smaller one that she could carry around and set easily. She could take it back to her campfire and… actually, he wasn’t sure what she would do with it. _Trap survivors when they bother her, maybe?_ He doubted she would go through with it. She was too loyal to her fellow survivors, even when they were annoyed her.

He briefly considered jewelry—he knew that jewelry was a Valentine’s Day tradition—but Meg wasn’t really the type of person to wear jewelry—it got in the way of her running. He growled in frustration.

Before he could think about it anymore, he heard a familiar phasing sound, and Rin appeared next to the bonfire.

“Just in time,” Evan muttered.

Rin nodded.

Evan noticed she had switched out her usual dirty white sarashi cloth to some soft pink one.

“Dressing for Valentine’s Day, I see?”

“Yes,” Rin replied quietly. “I thought I would try and look nice for…” she trailed off, something she did frequently.

“For who?” Evan asked, curious.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rin murmured, sticking her blade point-down in the dirt next to her.

“That’s not good for your weapon,” Evan advised.

Rin shrugged. “I don’t care.”

Evan shrugged back at her.

Neither of them was big on words, and, even though it had been a while, Rin was obviously still very much traumatized over the events that had led her to the Entity’s realm in the first place. Evan didn’t know much except that she also had problems with her father, something the two killers had in common.

But, the two of them did tolerate each other, and, over time, had formed a cautious friendship.

“Who’s in there now?” asked Rin, her empty eyes glancing in Evan’s direction.

“Myers.”

“Oh. He usually takes a while.”

“Yes.”

Rin phased over to where Evan was sitting and knelt daintily on the other side of the log. “How are things going with Meg?” she asked curiously.

“I think they’re going well,” he replied. “I’m trying to think of something to do for her tomorrow.”

“For Valentine’s Day?”

Evan nodded.

“Lucky. I wish I could…” Rin cut herself off with another sigh. “Never mind.”

Evan glanced at her. “Are you attracted to someone here?”

“One of the survivors, actually… I knew him before we arrived here,” she explained. “We were going out back at home, but…”

“…but that didn’t work out,” Evan finished for her. She nodded.

“Were the two of you able to reconcile?”

“No.” She shook her head sadly, eyes filling with tears. “It wouldn’t work. The first time I ran into him in a Trial… I grabbed him and stuck him on a hook without a second thought. The look he gave me…” She broke off with a heavy sigh.

“Have you two even talked?”

“No,” she repeated. “We’re like strangers now.”

“Who is it?”

Rin shrugged, indicating she was done talking about it.

“I hope the two of you are able to work things out,” he offered politely.

“Thank you,” she replied. “And I hope you are able to think of something you can do for Meg. From what you say about her, she sounds like a very nice girl.”

Evan nodded mutely, and the two of them watched Michael reappear next to the fire, clothes and mask splattered in blood.

“How many did you get?” Rin called over to him.

He held up four fingers before walking away into the dark fog. He never stuck around the fire longer than he had to.

Almost immediately, the fog began gathering around Rin. The Entity never waited long.

Evan waved goodbye and decided to start walking back to the estate. There would only be a couple more Trials, and he didn’t want to miss Meg’s arrival once they were over.

After a short walk, he was on familiar grounds again. He stopped at the storehouse to drop off his traps and cleaver before making his way back to the shack at the corner of the property to tidy it up.

He was in the process of cleaning up and decorating the shack now that Meg spent most of her nights sleeping there with him. At first, Evan had been horrified at the idea of a lady like Meg sleeping on his bare, hard cot, in his creaky, plain shack that didn’t even have doors or windows. He’d never bothered because he didn’t particularly care what the place looked like, and his thick skin and massive frame prevented him from getting cold at night.

Although Meg had assured him that the shack was fine as it was, that anything was better than sleeping on the ground next to the campfire surrounded by other survivors, he wanted the place to be as comfortable as possible for his Meg. She deserved the best.

Evan smiled, thinking of the fun times they had together. One of her favorite things to do was tell him stories about all the modern technology she liked to use back at home, impressing him with all the inventions of the twenty-first century.

He remembered a time a while back, where they had started a small campfire outside the shack and stayed up late together as Meg tried to explain all the technology she missed back at home. Most of the things she mentioned he couldn’t quite wrap his head around—but he remembered clearly the one thing she missed the most.

_“My iPod,” Meg had said, wistfully. “It’s a little thing—about this big—” she’d held two fingers together for emphasis— “and it plays any music or broadcast you want, anywhere you are. My mom prepared a special mix for me before she died… I’d give anything to be able to listen to that again…” She’d trailed off, trying to choke back her tears. Evan had taken her in his arms and held her tight, until they’d both fallen asleep under the stars together…_

The two would take long walks in the forest together, gathering flowers for Meg’s offerings and feathers for Evan’s.

Meg’s fingers were smaller and more delicate than Evan’s, so she often made all the offerings herself, twisting sticks together and weaving the feathers into them, tying them with dried grass or scraps of twine and thread she found in the forest.

Evan worked next to her, fixing up his traps or bags, sometimes working with metal on some new project, or sometimes even sketching, when he felt up to it.

Yes, Meg was abrasive and stubborn, and sometimes a bit too defensive for her own good. But he liked that about her, how she’d tackle any challenge head on, her loyalty and determination… how he was the only thing she ran _toward_ instead of away from… He looked forward to seeing her every morning when he woke up. He was as happy with her as he could possibly be in these Trials… and, honestly, happier than he’d been when he was mortal as well.

_I want to do something special for her. I want to make her as happy as she makes me._

He glanced over the doorway, at the large wreath hanging gently above it.

Ever since Meg had started making his offerings, he’d been rewarded much more significantly by the Entity, and the other killers looked on in envy whenever he’d tossed one of her wreaths into the fire. Evan had kept one particularly well-made shrike wreath and hung it over the door to his shack—Evan had decided it was too beautiful to burn. Meg had encouraged him to burn it, but he didn’t miss the small smile that crept onto her face whenever she looked at the wreath.

_What a big part of my life Meg has become,_ Evan thought.

_Then why can’t I just think of the perfect thing to do for her?_

He sat down on the cot with a thump. Thinking. _What would I do for her if she were at the estate, with me?_

_I’d look nice—I wouldn’t be horribly disfigured from the Entity, and I’d wear my best suit, and she’d wear the nicest evening gown and coat. I’d take her to the nicest restaurant in the city—I could afford it with the money from the business—and then we’d see a show at the theatre._

_Then we would walk back home—or maybe we’d even have a car… Meg said in her time almost everyone had one._

_And I’d buy her all the nicest things for women that I saw in the newspapers—handbags, dresses, flowers, jewelry, perfume… maybe even one of those new vacuum cleaners. She’d be so impressed._

_…although, maybe Meg wouldn’t like any of those things. She’s not a typical lady from home. She doesn’t wear perfume or jewelry… and she wouldn’t have to clean, we’d have maids for that._

_What would I get for a girl like Meg?_

He laid down on the cot with a thump as he realized he had no idea what to do for Meg here—and he wouldn’t know what to do back home, either.

_Do I not know her well enough? Or is it just that she has everything she needs?_

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice calling his name. He glanced up and realized Meg was standing in the doorway, looking in at him. Evan sat up quickly.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” she asked.

Evan shook his head no. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Meg entered the shack, carrying a medkit in her hand.

“Just… about you,” he muttered.

“About me? I’m flattered.” She smirked at him before heading to the corner of the shack and opening the chest. Evan had cleared it out so that Meg could keep all of her clothes and supplies inside instead of burying them near the survivor campfire, which she had done before.

She dropped off the medkit and started digging around, looking for an outfit to change into. She grabbed a sleeveless top and a pair of leggings and began changing right in front of him.

He blushed and averted his eyes.

“What, you don’t want to watch?” Meg teased from across the room.

“It’s not…proper… to watch—” Evan stuttered before Meg cut him off.

“Oh, shut your face, you old man,” she laughed, waltzing across the room wearing nothing but her bra and underwear. She slid onto his lap, taking off his mask and giving his forehead a kiss.

Evan turned back to her, allowing himself to admire her beauty, stroking her cheek. _How did I manage to get so lucky?_

Suddenly, Meg jumped up, lowering Evan’s mask over her own head and dancing around the small shack. “What do you think of me now?”

She lowered her voice in her best impression of Evan. “Look at me! I’m the Trapper, and I’m big and scary, and I like to put my girlfriend on a hook, but only when I can catch her!”

Evan laughed harder than he had in a long time. He watched her bend over, pretending to set a trap, holding up the mask to keep it from slipping down. “You definitely wear the mask batter than me.”

“No way,” Meg replied, walking back up to the cot and setting the mask down gently. “But holy shit, Evan, this mask is heavy as fuck! How do you keep your head up when you walk around?”

“Language, Meg,” Evan teased, smiling. She rolled her eyes, sticking both of her middle fingers out to him.

_Definitely a modern woman,_ he thought, shaking his head.

“Why did you even decide to start wearing a mask anyway?” Meg asked, finally pulling her clothes on.

“I made it when I first got here, after the Entity had endowed me with my power,” Evan explained. “I suppose it helps me distinguish between who I really am, and who I am in the Trials.”

Meg nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I like _all_ versions of you,” she declared, glancing at her feet shyly. Meg wasn’t big on giving compliments, but Evan knew she meant every word of what she said.

Evan smiled at her. “And I like all versions of you.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “Even when you’re eating my dust in a Trial?”

“You know I let you get away, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Or you just say that cause you can’t catch me.”

“Whatever you say, Meg.”

The survivor laughed as she took her two braids out, running her fingers through her long red hair. She tied it in a quick ponytail behind her head before sitting back down on the cot, yawning.

“You mind if I go to sleep a little early? Had an exhausting trial against one of the Legion.”

“Oh yes, Frank told me about it. He was quite upset that you were able to outrun him.”

Meg laughed. “Little punk. I hope he got splinters in his ass from all the pallets he vaulted trying to get me.” She crawled around to the other side of Evan—she liked to sleep on the inside of the cot, closest to the wall, with Evan shielding her from the cool breeze coming through the windows and doorway.

Evan laid down next to her, wrapping a protective arm around her waist and closing his eyes.

Within a few minutes, Meg was snoring softly. She expended a lot of energy during the day—running or jumping or moving around in some way—and slept very easily at night to recover.

Evan propped himself on one arm and looked at her face, dimly illuminated by the pale moonlight. He brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead, taking in her beauty. Her pink lips were slightly parted as she breathed gently, and her freckles were barely visible in the moonlight. This was one of the only times Evan was able to see her truly at peace, and it filled his heart with happiness.

He thought back to her visit earlier, watching her dance around in her underwear wearing his mask. _I’d take her over a 20 th century girl any day, _he thought. Her boldness, her stubbornness, her mischievous streak—he wouldn’t change anything about her for the world.

_Yes, I must be the luckiest killer here in the realm,_ Evan thought to himself. _In fact, I’m almost happy that I’m here. So that I can have her forever._

He stopped, realizing. _But that’s selfish. I know Meg would be happier back in her own time, at her own place. Going to school, and listening to all the music she wants, and…dating someone her own age, someone who hasn’t killed her a hundred times over…_

He felt sick to his stomach as he remembered that he and Meg were never meant to be. He deserved to be here, alone, and Meg deserved to be home, free and happy and safe.

_What if she’s only with me because there’s no other choice?_

Evan sat up, burying his face in his hands, angry. Angry at the Entity, for bringing Meg here to this world of hell, angry at himself for being happy she was here with him, angry that they could never live a normal life together…

The sudden movements woke Meg up—the survivor had trained herself to be on high alert for any sign of danger.

Evan felt a soft hand on his arm. He jumped.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, softly.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” Meg hopped off the bed, facing Evan, looking at his face. She placed a cool hand on his cheek, but he turned away.

“Talk to me, Evan,” she whispered.

Evan shook his head, sitting in silence.

“Okay.” She hopped onto the cot again, resting her hand on his thigh. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Evan growled, turning towards her. “You’re too good for me, Meg.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You deserve something better. You’re not supposed to be here—you’re supposed to be at home. In the twenty-first century. With all your fancy technology, and your friends and family—and a boyfriend who can take care of you and get you everything you want…”

Meg shook her head. “But I’m not at home, Evan. I’m here with you. And I’m happy with that.”

“I’m not.”

Meg’s eyes widened. “What are you saying? You don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“No! That’s not it. You know your visits are the only thing I look forward to. But… I’m not happy that… you have to go through so much pain to be with me…”

“I’m going through all this pain anyway, Evan. With or without you,” she pointed out. “And so are you.”

“But it shouldn’t be this way.”

“But it is.” Meg smiled. “Life isn’t fair, Evan, haven’t we gone over this?”

“But… wouldn’t you rather be with a survivor? Someone who doesn’t hurt you so much?”

“You’re not hurting me, Evan. The Entity is hurting me.”

“Through me.”

“Yes, through you. But there’s nothing we can do about that, is there?”

“No.”

“And you’ve never hurt me outside of a Trial, Evan. That’s what’s important.” She added, with a wink and a smirk, “well, besides that time I told you to bite me…”

Evan blushed, turning away. “But… if you had the choice, you’d rather be back home, right? With someone else?”

“Evan… of course I miss home. So much. It hurts my heart every night when I think of the people I left behind. But… there’s no point thinking of what could have happened or would have happened. _This_ is reality. The sooner we accept it, the sooner we can make the best of our circumstances.”

She paused.

“And… besides… it wouldn’t feel right going back now. What with all the friendships I’ve made… Jake, Dwight, Claudette… Bill… I don’t think I could bear to leave them after all we’ve been through.”

Evan turned back to look at Meg again.

“And, of course, there’s you,” she continued. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world. In any world.”

“Even a modern boy?”

“I don’t want a modern boy,” Meg whispered fiercely. “I want _you._ I’m with you because I want to be. Entity be damned. And… since we’re both here, I prefer to enjoy the ride. Not worry about what could have been.”

She took another pause. “Our old lives are dead, Evan. Don’t spend all your time there when there’s so much here instead.”

Evan sighed, putting a massive arm around Meg. “There is so much here… and I wouldn’t rather spend my time anywhere else. And… I feel so lucky that you chose me.”

“Of course,” Meg replied, leaning into his embrace. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re charming, you’re so much fun to talk to, and you’re so caring. There’s this… connection that I feel when I’m with you… I can’t explain it, but… it just feels _right._ And you’ve done so much for me…I feel so safe and special when I’m here with you. You’re a light in the darkness of this awful world. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I love you, Evan. And nothing is going to change that. This isn’t about the Entity, or where I came from, or where you came from, or why we’re here. This is about _us.”_

She broke off, her face red, realizing what she’d just said. Evan stared at her, stunned.

“I-I’m sorry—was that too much? I—” Meg leapt off the cot, feet poised to run, eyes wide.

“I love you too, Meg,” Even replied softly.

She glanced back. “Oh.” Meg’s face practically glowed in the moonlight.

“But if the Entity—”

“Shh.” Meg cut him off, stepping forward and planting a soft kiss on his lips. Evan wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her back, breathing in the smell of the forest, of the wind in her hair.

Meg crawled into his lap, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m really happy you’re here, Meg,” Evan whispered.

They sat in silence, Evan rubbing Meg’s back until she fell asleep again, curled up against his chest.

_She loves me,_ Evan thought, smiling broadly. It made his cheeks hurt; he wasn’t used to feeling such sheer elation.

_How does she always know the perfect thing to say? How does she remain so positive all the time, so accepting of the situation…she just jumps up and keeps running, no matter what happens to her. And… she wants me. She loves me. I can’t believe she loves me…_

He sat for a long time, holding Meg tenderly in his arms, listening to her sleep. It made him feel best when he was awake and she was asleep, so that he could jump up and defend her from anything that may come for her, if need be.

_The most beautiful woman…both inside and out._

_She’s right. It doesn’t matter what could have been._

_What matters is us, here and now._

Struck with sudden inspiration, Evan gently put Meg down on the cot. She sighed softly in her sleep, rolling over onto her side.

He grabbed one of his leather aprons, which was tossed over one of the windowsills, and gently covered her with it to keep her warm while he was gone. It was soaked with blood, but both of them had long gotten over their aversions to blood of any kind.

He then crept off toward the storehouse—he considered trapping the shack, just in case someone came for her—he wasn’t sure _who,_ but he always worried—but there was the possibility she would wake up before he was back and wander into a trap by accident… and that definitely wasn’t how he wanted to start off Valentine’s Day.

Digging through his shelves of materials, he selected the lightest block of wood he could find and got to work sanding, carving, painting.

And, just as the first rays of sun began to rise in the sky, he had finally created a gift for Meg.

He left it in the storehouse to dry and finally made his way back to the shack, where Meg was still sleeping peacefully. Exhausted, yet happier than he’d been in a long time, he gently eased himself onto the cot, rolling over and wrapping an arm around her, finally falling asleep.

…

When Evan woke up, it was evening, just before the Trials, and Meg was gone.

He was disappointed that she hadn’t stuck around—he loved waking up next to her—but he knew that she had to prepare for the possibility of going into a Trial at any time.

The apron was folded neatly at the end of the cot, and the chest was opened, the contents disheveled, as if Meg had gone through it hastily.

Evan knew that he had two Trials that night. He hadn’t gone twice in one night in a long time, not since the Entity had started bringing so many new killers to the realm.

Heading quickly to the storehouse, he grabbed a bag, filling it with traps and slinging it over his shoulder.

He also stuck a small tar bottle into the pocket of his overalls, and grabbed two owl wreaths to burn, then walked briskly towards the bonfire.

He arrived after a short walk. Killers were beginning to gather for the evening’s Trials. Freddy, who was going first, was burning his offering and wiping his glove on a torn blue dress.

Herman, Amanda, and Danny were arguing loudly amongst themselves, making bets on how many survivors Freddy would sacrifice.

Sally and Philip were there also, Sally leaning her head against Philip’s shoulder.

Philip glanced up, beckoning Evan over. He crossed over and took a seat on the log, nodding at the two.

“Good evening,” Evan greeted the two.

Sally sat up. “Good evening to you too,” she replied. “How was your day?”

“Just woke up, actually.”

“Really?” Philip asked. “I thought you enjoyed getting up early.”

“I went to bed late.”

“Why is that? You know that getting enough sleep is important for your health,” Sally scolded.

“No reason.”

“It was that survivor, wasn’t it? Meg _keeping you up at night?”_ Philip teased. 

“Philip!” Sally gasped, punching his shoulder. “You can’t talk like that in mixed company!”

Evan laughed. “I said that to Meg too, once. She doesn’t hold back with her words.”

“Did she listen?” Sally asked.

“Nope. In fact, I think it had the opposite effect.”

“My goodness, Evan. You have your hands full,” Sally lamented. “Modern women just don’t know how to be respectful.”

“You say that like you respect me all the time,” Philip teased, and the three killers laughed.

“It doesn’t matter how the women in this realm appear,” Evan pointed out. “There is no one to judge.”

“And you said that, in Meg’s time, women act differently?” Sally asked.

“So she says. She said women could get divorced…wear whatever they like without judgement… serve in the military… many women didn’t even marry.”

“Indeed,” Sally said, impressed. “I would have rather served in the military than worked in the asylum, given the option.”

Evan opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by the sight of Freddy appearing again by the fire, glove and sweater dripping with blood.

“That was fast,” Evan muttered, rising to toss his offering into the fire.

“Four sacrifices, bitches!” Freddy crowed. Danny and Herman reached into their pockets, each pulling out a hollow shell and tossing them toward Amanda, who shoved them into the pocket of her robe.

Sally shook her head, unimpressed as the fog began surrounding Evan, starting at his feet and gently rising.

“Good luck in there,” Sally called, her voice fading as Evan’s head became cloudy.

His mind spinning, he slumped over, succumbing to the emptiness that surrounded him.

…

Much later that night, exhausted, Evan made his way back to the manor.

_I’m out of shape,_ he thought to himself, disappointed. He hadn’t realized that two Trials would take so much out of him. The first Trial had gone alright, but the second, all four survivors had escaped rather quickly, one of them stopping to shine their flashlight in his face before running out.

Fortunately, Meg hadn’t been there to witness his embarrassing failure.

Without even stopping by the storehouse, he clumsily entered his shack, flinging his weapon to the ground. He was about to flop onto his cot when he noticed Meg sitting elegantly, smiling at him, legs crossed. He did a double-take—her hair was twisted into an elaborate bun, and she wore a long black skirt with a belt—almost like the ones that the ladies at home would wear, except for the slit that displayed one long, muscular leg. Her top was significantly more modern—almost completely see-through, except for a shimmery teal bodice that covered only the parts that needed to be—

Evan realized he was staring.

“Like what you see?” Meg asked, standing up and striking a pose. “Bet you didn’t know I had an outfit like this.”

“I—I didn’t,” Evan stammered. “You look beautiful.”

“Why, thank you,” she said, striking another pose. “And I have something else for you, too.”

Heading for the chest in the corner, she pulled out a bundle of paper, proudly presenting it to Evan with a smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Evan.”

Evan, stunned, took the paper from her. “You know what today is?”

“Well… Claudette told me, about a month ago,” she admitted, blushing. “I’ve spent the last month finding paper for you in the forest, and in the different realms. I thought you could use it for your drawing.”

Evan flipped through the paper. “I thought I’d have to draw on tree bark and leaves forever.”

Meg scratched her neck. “I know it’s not perfect… a lot of it is torn, or has stuff on it, and some of it was wet and I had to dry it at the fire. One of them had some of the Doctor’s notes on it, and they were really creepy, so I left it. But… it’s something, right?”

“It’s perfect, Meg,” Evan whispered.

She turned around, rummaging through the chest again. “Oh, and, I found this, too.” She extended her cupped hands, offering a sharp pencil to Evan.

“A pencil? I haven’t seen one of these in…”

“I know.” Meg beamed, obviously proud. “I looked around Ormond for three days, and I found it under one of the desks. Jake has a sharp rock he uses as a knife and I used it to sharpen it the best I could. Oh, and I used it for something, too—look at the last piece of paper.”

Evan pulled it out from under the pile. It was faded and crumpled, with a crude sketch of Evan’s face on it. The lines were shaky—it was obvious Meg hadn’t tried to draw anything in a long time—but it was unmistakably him, with a smile on his face and a heart above his head. Underneath, Meg had written in wobbly cursive, “Have a Trappy Valentine’s Day!”

Meg danced around the shack nervously. “I know it’s not great, drawing isn’t really my thing, and it’s been so long I almost forgot how to hold a pencil. But I did my best, and I hope you like it, and if not you could always draw over it…”

“Meg.” Evan placed the paper and pencil down gently, and stepped forward, taking Meg into his arms. “I love it. I didn’t expect you to do anything for me—”

“I meant what I said last night,” she whispered. “I love you. And I wanted to do something nice for you, because you’re always so good to me.”

Evan quickly pulled his mask off and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Meg. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

He stepped back quickly, releasing her. “Wait. I have something for you too, actually. Wait here.”

He quickly exited the shack, jogging to the storehouse, all exhaustion from earlier forgotten. Reaching his workbench, he grabbed Meg’s present and started back to the shack. Meg was perched on the cot again.

Standing in front of her, he held it out, smiling softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Meg. I made it myself.”

Meg gasped; her eyes wide. “My own mask?”

Evan nodded. “You looked so cute wearing mine, I thought I could make you one of your own. Now we can match. I made it out of wood, so it wouldn’t be as heavy, so you can run with it, or wear it to Trials, or whatever you want.”

Meg took it gently, running her fingers over it. “It’s incredible.”

It was small, light, and painted white just like Evan’s, though it lacked the mouth and the eyeholes were significantly smaller. Evan had opted to leave off the leering grin, since she’d spent so much time looking at it right before she died.

She pulled it on, turning to face Evan. “How do I look?”

Evan didn’t speak, running a finger down the mask. _I never thought I’d make someone so happy with my work._

Meg smiled. “Now if we end up in a Trial together, no one will be able to tell us apart.”

Evan laughed. “You think so?”

“Actually, I might be wrong.” She stood up with another dramatic pose. “Obviously, I’m the one who runs faster. And you’re the one with the best ass.”

“Oh, I don’t agree with that at all,” Evan replied, eyeing her outfit again. “Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked. “I feel bad I didn’t dress up as well.”

Meg shrugged, tugging at Evan’s overalls. “Does it really matter? None of us are going to be wearing anything pretty soon, right?”

Evan ran his hands down Meg’s body, transfixed. “Is…is this the ‘getting laid’ part of the holiday that keeps being mentioned to me?”

Meg giggled, pushing her mask up and standing on her tiptoes, giving his neck a kiss. “This isn’t getting laid… it’s _making love_.”

Evan scooped Meg up, throwing her onto the cot, kissing her neck, her breasts, her stomach, as his hands fiddled with her belt, unbuckling it and pulling that gorgeous skirt down, throwing it onto the floor. “I like the sound of that.”

As Meg wrapped her legs around Evan’s hips, pulling him closer, Evan decided that he may have to start keeping track of the days after all.

_The holidays actually aren’t that bad when I get to spend them with the woman I love._

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is curious, the outfit Meg wore was the Jewel of the Party outfit (love how it looks on her), and the mask Evan makes is the Deathgarden mask.
> 
> And, I know I write Evan and Sally to be a bit...old-fashioned in their beliefs, but my goal is to give them semi-realistic attitudes toward women/relationships/ect that they would likely harbor, since they were both plucked straight from the early twentieth century.


End file.
